


Vincent, Redefined

by TheArtOfBlossoming



Series: Vincent, Redefined [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Addiction, Game Spoilers, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Apocalypse, Relationship(s), Roleplaying Character, Survival, inspired by playing Fallout 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 16,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8280622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtOfBlossoming/pseuds/TheArtOfBlossoming
Summary: A glimpse into the life and loves of Sole Survivor Vincent Nathaniel 'Nate' Hudson, a series based on the author's actual gameplay of Fallout 4.Minutemen/Brotherhood of Steel path.





	1. Chapter 1

Vincent loaded the holotape into the recording device and sighed, stroked his horseshoe moustache down smoothly and pressed [Rec].

“Personal record, 12/9/2287. Everything’s changed. Everything except war, that is.  
I found him, not before he found me, though. Oh, Nora… our son was stolen from us in more ways than one. He was brought up by people who taught him some warped values. ‘Mankind, redefined’ they say. They’ve forgotten their humanity, worshipping science, hiding underground, using what is left of us to experiment on. Oh, they’ll argue they’re doing it for the good of mankind whilst lying to themselves.

Shaun. Who would you have become if we’d raised you?

No room for that. Got to re-assess the situation, survive this and bring as many to safety as I can. You can’t tell the synths from the human beings but I’ve heard enough to wonder if that matters. These beings think for themselves. Some of them get their brains washed for the trouble. Wouldn’t put it past the Institute to be working on a way to 'reset’ humans, too.

I’m stuck in this mess. The Brotherhood seemed like a good bet but they’re not the military I trained with. They’re a good team but again, seem to have their own agenda, prizing technology yet rejecting synths. Setting themselves so far apart from the few good people who scrape by. I’m torn. There’s so much we could do to reclaim civilisation but there are conflicts of interest every which way I look.

The Minutemen…looks like the old voluntary militia got reborn just to run out of time again. Just one small group living in my home town.

Then there’s the Railroad. Synth sympathisers, they run a tight crew. They use secrecy as their main weapon. I didn’t have orders to infiltrate but I need to be sure about Shaun and what he is responsible for. What I am indirectly responsible for. I already know what has to be done but… oh Nora. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. ” *click*


	2. Vincent's Log 2

‘Personal record…ah whatever the damn date is…..  
The Railroad is gone. There was no middle way. I had to choose the Brotherhood so that we can take down the Institute. My own son, taking point on humanity losing itself.

I’m never going to sleep easy again. If only Desdemona hadn’t forced me to choose sides. There was another way. I would have helped them to turn the Brotherhood into something that helped the good citizens of the Commonwealth, biological or synthetic. At least I got Danse out alive.

If there’s a way to get Maxson to see…I doubt it, though. I’m a Paladin now. A bitter victory, to say the least but perhaps I might have a better chance to open some minds. If I can’t include the synths - and the ones who still think they’re human - in the ideal of protecting the innocent then what’s the point?

This world…scarred and tired, just like me. I’m still fighting for it but I’m hanging on by a thread. Don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.’ *click*


	3. Vincent's Log 3

*click* Shaun is gone. I brought him into this world and two hundred years later I…. I took him out of it. The Institute is gone. Hole in the ground nuked by *fxzzz*ing robot gone.

He was sick. Dying. Old, bitter and angry with nothing to say to me. My hand is still shaking, don’t think it’ll ever stop, no matter how much booze I pour down my neck. But not Bourbon. He liked Bourbon, same as me. Never touching the stuff again.

So I’m back in the military, taking orders. It seems easier, for now. Paladin Vincent…has a kind of hollow ring to it.

The kid. Is it…is he a kid, really? The DNA matches mine but it isn’t real. Somewhere inside him is a gadget, a synth component. Will he grow? What if he doesn’t? Could I be the dad Shaun never had? No. No not now. Not like this. Not without you, Nora. I told it I’m his dad just to save the synths’s life. Not his fault he was created but what’m I gonna do with a kid on the Prydwen?

Oh, my head. Where’s the damn off switch? *click*


	4. Vincent's Log 4

Personal log *date withheld*. “Sober again. I don’t have the luxury of falling apart. As Sentinel, I have a renewed responsibility and a certain amount of freedom. I might finally be able to start making amends for my son’s deeds and for my own.

I am disturbed by Elder Maxon’s blind adherence to the oversimplified enemy classification regs. However, I must remain hopeful that there is a chance that he will see reason. If he’d have shot Danse himself, I wouldn’t still be in the Brotherhood. I’d be blind drunk in Goodneighbour….

So here’s the plan: approach Colonal Garvey and propose a revival of the Minutemen under guidance of the Brotherhood of Steel, under my personal command. Set up a division with revised enemy classification.

Non-feral ghouled citizens and Gen 3 synthetics (bar Coursers) that are willing to live peacefully alongside the non-hostile human population are to be protected.

Children of Atom, Raiders, Gunners if hostile and Trappers, Feral Ghouls and Supermutants are the enemy.

*sigh* I know this is risky. If Maxon decides to make an enemy of me, I will act in self-defence only. I will not risk the lives of my brothers and sisters for one man’s narrow-mindedness.

Shaun was right about one thing, in a way. We do need to redefine ‘mankind’.” *click*


	5. Vincent's Log 5

Additional entry *date withheld*. Back at CPS today. Knight Rhys is back to his usual abrasive self but holds his head a bit lower when snapping at me. The others wonder that he hasn’t gotten himself a black mark already. Between us though, it has become something akin to a running joke. If you can do that without laughing.

Scribe Haylen was acting tense all day. She finally caught a chance to speak privately, in the garage and actually made me flinch when she demanded loudly to know where he’d gone. I had to forbid her from climbing aboard a boat to Far Harbour. It’s safer for both of them. So now, she’s free to drop supplies at the ‘Den’ and I’ve promised to see that he gets anything special that she leaves there.

I can see just how much he means to her. I’ve spoken to him about her, too and one thing has become obvious. Poor Haylen is chasing a relationship that just won’t go where she desperately wants it to.

He’s still finding adjusting to the truth of being a synth difficult. I don’t think he knows - and I’m not about to let slip - that he’s, well. He…um… was flirting with me. *click - recording paused*.  
*click - recording resumed*

Oh crap. Talk about putting my foot in it. Haylen and Rhys joined me on the roof and she jumped at the chance of another private word. Her big eyes told me that it wasn’t mission oriented as she handed me a note to give to him. I just suddenly came out with ‘For frag’s sake, girl, he wants a boyfriend, not a wife!’

I may as well have crapped a Cryo grenade.

After the stunned silence, Rhys’ face went bright red and he started to face up to me, stepping in front of Haylen protectively. I barked an official warning, Haylen started quietly crying and….gosh. I’ve disarmed easier bombs.

When we had all taken a deep breath, I apologised. I’d just had a whiskey off-duty and hadn’t slept well in three days but that was no excuse. Rhys went quiet and suddenly I could see it. He was jealous! We must have talked for two hours. They persuaded me to help Danse see this part of who he is and they both wrote letters to him.

Duty, position, exile. The past. Invisible, impassable walls dividing friends, brothers, sister. I almost reached out to hold Haylen, like I used to Nora. She’s not her, though and I don’t have any romantic feelings for her. Maybe no romance left in me at all.

My heart must have frostbite.

Gee, I gotta lay off the whiskey. *click*


	6. Vincent's Log 6

The new General sat back on the creaky old wooden chair and stared at the tiny rectangle of metal, whose chain dangled from his hand. He wiped some grime off it with his thumb, revealing the inscription: ‘SENTINEL Vincent Nathaniel Hudson 05112042-111’ He briefly wondered the final fate of his dogtags before putting them back around his neck.

He put a holotape into the device and pressed [Rec]  
*Personal Log [date: '4am’ ◇error, field not recognised◇].*

“We have the Castle. Giant mother of a 'Monsterfish’ has been dragged away, tunnels cleared, armoury reclaimed, artillery installed, walls repaired. Well, good as can be done for now. Resources are in short supply, as is my time.

My focus right now is getting the Minutemen back on their feet, redefining them under the guidance of the Brotherhood. Good job the top brass aren’t paying them much attention, it means that we can get on and start helping good people (of all kinds) rebuilding from the ground up.

One day, Maxson and I may well come to blows. I hope it doesn’t come to that. The last thing I wish to do is just create another side to fight a war with. No. The Minutemen are now a chapter of the Brotherhood. My personal responsibility.

*short breathy laugh* Old General McGann must’ve known I was coming, judging by the whiskey and cigars I found in here. MacCready said the hat doesn’t suit me and the suit wouldn’t fit…. not that I want to wear a dead man’s clothes.

I should get a Scribe to add 'General’ to these tags. Mamma Murphy, riding the jet, was waffling on about me being a hero…ah, people have got the wrong idea. There’s nothing heroic about this tragedy. I’ll do what I can to reduce the threat, build beds and barns, whatever can be done. We mustn’t forget what went before. What went wrong and why. We have to keep trying to change…..or war never will.” *click*


	7. Vincent Off Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change of view into the same story..

“We’re getting through the reactor coolant way too fast, Scribe. Do you have any idea what the Sentinel has to go through to get the stuff? Now find that leak and plug it before I make you lose vital fluids too!”

Proctor Ingram stomped across the walkway, scowling.

“Hey, Ingram. You still on duty? I didn’t think I’d see you around this time of night…ah..morning,” Vincent corrected himself as he glanced at his Pip-boy.

“Sentinel, sir. No, I’m usually off duty but my assistant is busy with other things *she should’ve been doing YESTERDAY!” she hollered after the hurrying young scribe.“

“Anything I can help with?”

Ingram’s gaze fell onto the Sentinel’s face and something in his eyes made her frown relax and dissolve. “It’s….personal. I wouldn’t bother you with it.” She shifted uncomfortably within her frame and Vincent understood at once.

“Come on, to your quarters immediately, Proctor. You can’t do your job if you don’t sleep. Allow me to assist.”

Ingram’s surprise turned into relief as she gave in and tromped off to her private room, Vincent at her side.

As they went through the door, he noticed that she checked around briefly for observers but most were at their post or in their bunks. She locked the door behind her.

“OK, get me outta this darned thing.” She undid some catches and directed Vincent to hit the release button. The suit unfolded and he stood behind and gently took her under the arms, lifted her carefully and placed her gently on her bunk.

She rolled up the cut off trouser legs to reveal her truncated legs, red and sore. “Pass me that jar. Ouch, that smarts. Damn pressure sore is back.”

“Here, better put this dressing on it.”

“What, are you a field medic too?” Ingram was growing rather flushed.

“Just the basics. My father-in-law was an amputee, I helped him out a few times. Nothing to be embarrased about, Ingram.”

A deep breath and then “Tess. Call me Tess.”

Vincent looked deeply into her eyes, this strong, practical woman that he admired deeply and realised that he felt more for her than he’d realised…and she him.

Sleep eventually found her, curled in the strong arms of the one she’d only just realised that she loved.


	8. Ingram Off Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another perspective... with thanks to @thebanquosghost who inspired this chapter.

Proctor Ingram entered the password to her hidden file ◇Private journal◇. From the outside, it looked like she was working but in reality, she had to stow these thoughts somewhere before they interfered with her job.

|…|… “You’d have thought the defeat of the Institute and the Railroad would have made my job easier but no. Yesterday was [expletive automatically deleted]. Why did all those amber-alert maintenance jobs skip the queue into the red zone all at the same time?

Been running my behind off putting out proverbial (and one non-proverbial) fires for 36 hours straight. Couldn’t spare the scribe to help me exit my frame so now that pressure sore on my left stump is back with a vengeance.

Sentinel Vincent arrived back on the Prydwen around 1am. That man… he just says and does the right thing every time. Made me stop and get back to my bunk, got me out of my frame and field-dressed my sores. All the while I felt like a blushing young girl again and no-one I mean _no-one_ has managed that. Not since the accident.

Oh, Teagan tries and he’s a gentleman but there’s just something about Vin. When he looked at me, he looked right into me. There’s so much in his gaze. It flickers along frequencies of grief, anger, determination and tenderness. I couldn’t figure the man out for so long. He’s a self-deprecating hero. He’s been through so much; he’s complicated. Dang handsome, too.

Maybe that is why I’m drawn to him. The way he held me to pull me out of my frame, it was…perfect. Gentle, respectful, strong and, well, intimate. He cleaned me up and my hand just landed on his and stayed there for the longest moment. He just looked at it and breathed. Took me a bit to realise that he was weeping. That broke me. I started quietly crying too and before I knew it we’d embraced, not talking, just silently sobbing in each others’ arms.

We didn’t talk, not until the morning, just held on to each other and fell asleep. I woke with his strong arm around my shoulders. When we did speak it was brief - duty called. I promised him I’d see Cade and get some medical leave. He invited me to see the structure he’s building at the airport ruin. Just see it, not work on it. He made no demands of me whatsoever.

As he left, he just turned and said, ‘Thankyou Tess, for thawing my heart out.’ It looked for a moment that he was about to say something else but suddenly, it was the Sentinel General just heading off to his next mission.

Feel like I just fell off a cliff again.” [SecureLogout]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's own illustration can be found here: [http://theartofblossoming.tumblr.com/post/152552356789/vincent-and-proctor-ingram-i-decided-to-dust]()


	9. Vincent's Log 7

*Personal Log. Date [timed out].* Heyyyy, Mac! Find that bottle? No, I said Whiskey not Bourbon. Yeah I know Brrbon is whishky but I don’t drink that sh..wha’s flashin’? Crap. Hang on. *click*

“Mac? Still with us? Ohhhh little brother, sleepin’ like a baby. Good Knight. Hehe. Where’s the whisss…hmm. No. Come on man. Pull yerself together. Got some adactyl…adoctil…sober-up stuff in here somewhere. *crack, hiss*. [43 mins 52 secs of inhilation/expiration sounds auto-edited from recording.]

“Mac? You still here? Oh. Actually gone to spend some o’ those caps for a change. Dang it, thing’s recording still. Alright. Listen up Pipboy:

“I found purgatory and its name is Nuka World. Reckon I had this coming after what happened under the old church. Lives I should have fought to save. Every time I see a lantern, I remember their expressions. The betrayal…

"I’m beginning to feel used. A sick joke. The janitor brought in to clean up after the end of the world. All the chems and booze just distract me for a bit. Truth is, there’s always more.

"Seriously, am I really awake or is this all some elaborate fiction? The dry blood under my fingernails and the sickly sweet odour of questionable cola says ‘real enough’.

"I ran the gauntlet and pulled the plug on the old raider overboss. With help. Gage. Hell, I almost liked the guy….maybe I just admired his survival instinct. He had that same look of betrayal when I put him down.  
"This is all so messed up. Those kooks and their space-dream… they didn’t deserve what they got, unlike the raiders. It’s not like I didn’t have enough to make nightmares out of already. That and the spooky old house….

"They’re gone, all three demented Raider groups, traders are free. Didn’t really want to find out that the grass is redder on the other side. Mind you, now I know the enemy better.

"As for the traders…wonder what those collars do except threaten with those little red lights. Hope they find a way to get them off, safely.

"So…we’re here hauling valuable crap back to the Commonwealth. Maybe we are some kind of raiders after all, like Gage said…

*sigh* No…we’re better than that. We have to be, else we’ve no right to survive.” *click*


	10. Vincent's Log 8

[Sentinel General’s official report ref.111-88-MMdivBoS ]

>>>Cleared and established a valuable new settlement at Quincy. Pre-war incomplete Vault designation 88. Large area suitable for subterranean habitation. The decision has been made to use the available modular room pieces to create a city within the cavern system rather than try to replicate historical enclosed vault plans.

Request Proctor Ingram’s presence to oversee essential engineering and double check cavern’s longterm structural integrity.

Note to Proctor Quinlan: Useful technologies found: 1 medical, eye care; 1 kinetic energy dynamo. Schematics for reliable, safe, medium and large nuclear reactors. Request 1 experienced Scribe to document.

Site contains a wealth of resources. Very little will have to be imported. Recommend defence be mainly staffed by Minutemen division as settlers seem more comfortable with their presence.

Three exits. Note: clearance of Supermutants needed at Fallon’s and careful watch of Coursers and Synth troopers at University Point. Pharmacy entrance to become a Minuteman safehouse. Main entrance at Quincy Quarry cleared but attractive to raiders, Children of Atom due to excess of nuclear material and possible risk of Gunners.

Knight MacCready performed admirably. Recommend meeting with Elder Maxson for token recognition.


	11. The Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The following Fallout4 ‘fly-on-the-wall’ fanfic has been co-created by two fans, myself (female) in the UK as ‘Vincent’, the other in the US (male) as ‘Piper’. The role-play took place through a messenging app. Questions have been inspired by other sources.]

*The Sole Survivor of Vault 111 and Diamond City’s one and only reporter settle themselves in the back office-come-living quarters of Publick Occurences.*

Piper: “Alright, Blue. You ready for the Man out of Time, part two? The first article was such a hit, people want to know more about the man. He’s the Vault Dweller. The Sole Survivor. The General of the Minutemen. Sentinel of the Brotherhood of Steel.”

Vincent: “Mind if I smoke?” *Vincent pulls out a mostly new cigar*.

Piper: *she smiles and lights her own cigarette* “Not at all. Okay, so we’ve glimpsed of the man before. Now we’re gonna go a little more in-depth. How would you describe yourself?”

*A deep draw and long exhale*. “Tired. Broke and put back together again… .but not better. Just different. I hate being called a 'Vault Dweller’.”

Piper: “That’s understandable. The vault must have been so traumatic for you. What did you do as soon as you escaped the cryopod?”

Vincent: My training kicked in. No time to think… no, scrub that. No time to feel, I just focussed on getting out and getting my bearings. 'Think survival before personal crap’, my old commander used to say.“

Piper: "Your old commander? Like in the Great War? What was that like?”

Vincent: “Bloody. Stupid. Wasteful….Traumatic. I was all set to leave all this crap behind, retire young and raise a family.”

Piper: “I’m so sorry. This has to be hard. What was the most shocking thing you’ve seen since waking up 210 years after you were frozen?”

Vincent: “Geez Piper, are you a therapist or a reporter? You know what hit me hardest. Next question. *Vincent takes a deep breath, forcibly calming himself*  
Sorry. Go on.”

Piper: *she smiles wryly* “All right, you gruff bastard. Let’s see, I’ve compiled a list of questions from myself and the readers. Just give me a second… here they are. Okay, so, bedroll on the side of the road or do you wait to find an inn?”

Vincent: “Whichever will keep me alive as well as healthy.”

Piper: *Piper chuckles* Short on words as always. You’re killing me, Vinnie. It’s your birthday! What’s your ideal gift? Pre-war and post-war?“

Vincent: "Oh shit, just please don’t call me Vinnie ever. Vin will do, since we’re well enough acquainted by now. Hmm…. pre-war gift would have to be a midnight blue Roller Roy motorcycle. You had to import them from England but they were sweet. Better engine that most here, too. Post-war…heck, same thing but that’s like wishing for Jangles the Moon Monkey to never have got so damn popular. Damn monkey freaks me out. I’d settle for a gift basket of whiskey, wrapped cigars and some Mirelurk jerky. Oh, not Bourbon, though. Not anymore.”

Piper: “Okay, sorry, Vin. *she winks* Why not Bourbon?”

*Vincent looks down and says quietly,* “.I found a bottle on….on Father’s desk when we raided the Institute. Can’t drink it without feelin’ sick to my stomach now.”

Piper: 'I’m sorry, Vincent. *her brow furrows with worry* I know that was rough. You don’t have to answer this one if it’s too hard, but as a follow-up, what happened to Shaun?“

Vincent: "That’s Classified Information, Piper. I’ll just say that my search came to an end.  
*Vincent takes a deep breath and strokes his handlebar moustache down with his free hand.*

Piper: "Fair enough, Blue. Change of pace. *Piper rifles through her notes* So the dust has started to settle, what state have you left the Commonwealth in and what’s next?”

Vincent: “There’s less crap around and now we have a solid foundation to build on. By making the Minutemen a subdivision of the Brotherhood, we are supporting the local civilian militia that settlers are regaining trust in and in turn they are backed up by an experienced, well-equipped force that have the potential to build a substantial, lasting peace.

'Nuff words for ya, Miss Wright?”

Piper: *laughs* “I’m impressed. There’s more to you than your muscles. What about the detractors that say the Brotherhood of Steel are genocidal, thieving maniacs?”

Vincent: “They’re going on first impressions but they do touch on a major issue that needs resolving.”

Piper: “Okay. We might come back to that. *shifts through her notes* What’s your greatest accomplishment?”  
Vincent: “You know how to make this easy on me, don’t ya? *said with an expression that says the opposite*. I suppose… finding a new purpose and direction after all I’ve been through. Still choosing life.”

Piper: “C'mon, Blue, you know I can’t take the easy road. Now for the reverse. Your biggest regret?”

*Vincent exhales a cloud of smoke and stares at the dwindling cigar for a long moment then his expression turns to forced mirth as he chuckles,* “I regret not building a root cellar under our old house and stocking it with chocolate cake mix!”

*Vincent’s face soon drops and he looks Piper in the eye, expectantly.*

Piper: *Piper laughs so hard that she snorts* “Cake mix? That’ll do, I guess. Given the choice, where would you prefer to live? Back in Sanctuary, here in Diamond City, or somewhere else entirely?”

Vincent: “I don’t think I’ll ever settle down in just one place ever again.”

Piper: “That’s understandable. Compared to most, you’ve been through a lot.

You’re attacked! By uh …. raiders! Do you fight by the rules or take cheap shots?”

Vincent: “Don’t ever be fooled into thinking war has rules. You do what you need to survive within the bounds of your own moral compass and that’s that.”

Piper: “You’ve said as much before, just not on the record. *she smiles* Do you have a favorite quote?”

Vincent: “It’s a little cheesy…”

Piper: “Okay?”

Vincent:“ 'Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.’  
Not that I can dance…”

Piper: “That’s deep, Blue. And I bet the right lady could get you to strut. What was the biggest adjustment for you coming from prewar to now?”

*Vincent blushes a little.*  
“ It’s a total culture shock, made even worse by the familiarity of things. I suppose, the loss of the illusion of safety. The dangers are frequent, raw, not miles away in another country anymore.”

Piper: *smiles warmly at a rare glimpse of Vincent vulnerable* “I can’t imagine a time when I didn’t have to watch my back constantly. What was the old world like?”

Vincent: “Clean! Comfortable but… complicated. People glossed over the really important stuff, lost sight of reason in the face of science or profit. Have you read any old terminals? Sheesh. The world may have looked pretty on the outside but it was a shrivelled, twisted thing just waiting to implode. You can only plaster over cracks with creature comforts for so long. *Vincent discards the stub of the cigar.*

Piper: "What’s something you feel particularly strongly about?”

Vincent: “Aside from what I’ve already stated, I feel strongly that the people of the Commonwealth need to have a justice system, otherwise we’re not much better than tribal barbarians. I guess we’ll get there, eventually.

Got any whisky 'round here, Piper?”

Piper: “It’s in the locker over there. What’s the worst injury you’ve ever received?”

Vincent: “Thanks. See this? *Vincent points to the vertical scar that runs down the left side of his face.* I was lucky I didn’t lose the eye. Bet you can’t guess what made it.”

Piper: “No. What happened?”

Vincent: “Oh go on, girl, take a stab at it.”  
*Vincent visibly relaxes as he sips his whisky and gives a half-smile*

Piper: “A deathclaw is the first thing to come to mind. Maybe one of them Mechanist robots?”

Vincent: “Nope and nope.”

Piper: “Mirelurk’s claws are big enough.”

Vincent: “It was pre-war. My bachelor party. Some guys from my unit were cookin’ up some burgers… like, uh, one-headed brahmin meat. Jimmy and Chad were getting JJ - Julian - drunk; guy really couldn’t hold his liquor. I was just checking to see if the meat was done when JJ came staggering over, passed out and knocked the grill into my face. Darn thing came apart and made me look real pretty for my wedding day. Good job Chad was a field medic.

"Now, the little one on this side, that was a Mirelurk. Killclaw got the drop on me. I’ve had plenty of flesh wounds, a pretty bad gut shot once…. never broken a bone in my life, though. I can deal with physical pain easy enough.”

Piper: *Piper looks at each of the scars Vincent shows as he talks* “That’s impressive, Vin. Quite the, uh… war map. Here’s a good one. If you could do anything else, what would you do?”

*There’s a long pause as Vincent contemplates the last finger of whisky in his glass* “I really have no answer to that one.”

Piper: “There isn’t anything else? Not some secret desire to open your own clothing store?” *Piper laughs*

Vincent: “This is what I’m good at. Whether I like it or not.”  
*He drains the last of his drink and sets the glass down a little too hard.*

Piper: “Fair enough, Blue. Fair enough. You okay?”

Vincent: “Yeah. Yeah, go on.”

Piper: *furrows her brow with concern briefly before her expression lightens again* It’s dinner time! You a brahmin and tatos kinda guy or you have more refined tastes?“

Vincent: "I like to eat! Most things except Dandyboy Apples. They really shouldn’t be edible after two centuries. I kept telling Nora they tasted funny. Oh… and you can tell your readers not to touch Potted Meat. It’s. . er…contaminated. I’m only picky about what I drink.  
*Vincent reaches for the whiskey bottle again and pours a generous glassful.*  
"Want some?”  
Piper: “Sure. *Piper goes and gets a glass from the locker and places it next to Vincent’s* What is your most precious possession?”

Vincent: “My memories. Those’re harder to steal.”  
*Vincent pours a generous measure into her glass*

Piper: *Piper sips her liquor* Work before play, Vin. Besides the obvious, what’s been stolen from you?“

Vincent: "Car keys, dignity and I think, my heart again. Leastways, it isn’t frozen anymore.”

Piper: *arches an eyebrow* “Your heart, Blue? Who was lucky enough to steal that?”

Vincent: “Can I say off the record?”

Piper: “If that’s what you want.”

Vincent: “Tess… I mean, Proctor Ingram. Early days yet but she, well, she gets me.”

Piper: *huge smile* “I’m happy for you, Blue. I’ve not met her, but if she struck your fancy, she must be decent. *toasts her glass* May you find much deserved happiness.”

Piper: “What sorta hobbies do you have when you’re not out putting injustices to rest or scavving around to fix things?”

Vincent: “Not much time for hobbies these days. Tinkering with power armour is as much a new hobby as it is necessary. I enjoy the occasional comic book, might take up weightlifting again as 88 had some decent equipment stashed in one of the old train cars. And cooking. As long as the grill doesn’t attack me again.” *a half-smile and a grunt of amusement*

*Vincent places his untouched second whiskey on the table and awaits Piper’s next question.*

Piper: “Okay, Vin. We’re winding down. Give the readers a day in the life of the Sentinel General. What’s your daily routine like?”

*Vincent strokes his moustache thoughtfully then replies* “Routine isn’t the word. Unless you’re stuck on the Prydwen or in the Castle walls. Each day comes with its own rhythm of challenges, surprises and varying amounts of the basics - food, shelter, sleep. I can’t stay in one place long without getting restless, anyhow. That’s why I’ve left a trail of half-built settlements spanning the Commonwealth! *A brief chuckle*.

No, sourcing building materials keeps me on the move. So, I might start the day at 5am wherever I laid my head the night before. I’ll scan for enemies and pick up any useful jun… er… salvage… along the way. Much as I can carry. It all has a use. No, I do not 'collect antiques’ (heh.. s'ppose I am one!)

So I eat when I’m hungry, keep an ear on Radio Freedom for alerts, maybe go up to the Prydwen to deliver technical documents and stop by a settlement for a bit and help raise a barn or something. Wouldn’t want to see my job description in full…. Yeah, then I may sleep in an actual bed for a good long stretch if I can. ’S about it.”

Piper: “Sounds like a busy day. If you could give one piece of advice for the readers about staying alive in the Commonwealth, what would it be?”

Vincent: “Pay attention.”

Piper: “That’s it?”

Vincent: “Your basic survival instinct of being aware of what is around you, is the one thing that you can apply to so many different situations. So yeah, look, listen, smell, feel… include your gut instinct in this… and you’ll stand more chance of being able to do it all over again tomorrow.  
Of course, power armour is great for when you’re distracted and forget to check for mines.”

Piper: “Check for mines… Okay. We all pretty much understand the Minutemen. Why did you join up with the Brotherhood?”

“I can tell you’ve been itching to ask me this one, Piper.” *Vincent picks up his glass and finally takes a modest draught.*

Piper: *chuckles* “Saving the best ones for the last.”

Vincent: “You have to understand my choices in the context of my experience. I was a young cadet, graduated through military school, socialised mainly with my squad. When I woke up and needed help to find out what had happened to my son, I was looking for what I knew. Never expected to meet Valentine but thanks to him I found the kidnapper. Right after I’d dealt with him I stepped out that door and saw the arrival of the Prydwen. I can’t express my relief as I heard their message and saw their technology. I’d begun to think that vehicles - let along flying ones - were a thing of the past. So yeah, I gravitated toward them as I saw them as my best chance of being reunited with my son …  
*Vincent’s stare goes distant and he is quiet for just a bit too long*

Piper: "I’m sorry, Vin. I know it’s tough. *Piper goes to the lockers and procures a small brown box from its depths* I found these while out the other day. You’re the only one I know that really appreciates them. *Piper gives Vincent a box of scavenged cigars* I don’t know of they’re any good or not, but I was assured of their value by Crazy Myrna.”

*Quietly* “Thankyou, Piper. These are… really excellent quality. I’m touched.”

Piper: “That’s doesn’t mean you get a pass on the harder final questions, mister.”  
*Vincent suddenly erupts with belly laughter*

Piper: “Describe a defining moment in your childhood that sculpted you into the man you are today.”

Vincent: “A neighbour ran over a dog and I saw it. The dog was messed up real bad but still alive. It was a pretty rough neighbourhood we were in at the time. The guy pulled a pistol and was going to put the dog down right there but my Pop ran out and shouted the guy down. He brought that poor mutt into our kitchen and started patchin’ it up right then and there on the kitchen table. He was a field medic you see and had dealt with worse. So there was Ma screaming about the bloody mess and Pop ignoring her and getting me to hold the mutt down whilst he chopped off its mangled paw with Ma’s new turkey knife. It took weeks but Stumpy recovered and ended up living with us. She was the most loyal dog I ever knew…well, bar one. From that, I learned never to give up easy.

Piper: "Wow. That’s pretty powerful, Vin. Two more. I know you’re busy. If you were to die tonight, what would you want to be remembered for?”

Vincent: “I’m not so comfortable with that question. I suppose if I have to say, I’d go with inspiring folk to help each other get through this fucked up fallout.

Sorry for the cussin’ ”

Piper: “It’s alright, it’ll get edited before print. Okay, Blue, last one. What’s next for you, like big picture-wise?”

Vincent: “The Knights are fond of telling me that there’s still alot to be done. I don’t imagine Colonel Garvey will ever run dry of places to point me at or people to help. I suppose my aim is to keep going until the settlements are strong enough to consistently defend themselves and we’ve built up and trained the Minutemen to become a…a thriving Brotherhood detachment. *Another sip of whiskey*

Hmm… I’d like to think that we get to draw up a charter of what it means to be a Commonwealth citizen, some kind of code to live by so that *every* sane, conscious, peaceful person gets the freedom to live and thrive without fear of attack, kidnapping, theft or persecution.

Then I’m going to secretly retire to Far Harbour and quietly carry on where Old Longfellow leaves off so people think he’s just really ancient.” *Vincent gives a slightly drunken wink and grin*.

Piper: *Piper scribbles down some final notes and looks up* “Well, this was fascinating. Lots of ups and downs, Blue. That’s the last of the whiskey. Let’s go get another bottle and then you can be on your way.”


	12. After the Interview

Vincent and Piper rose somewhat stiffly from their seats. It was late; they’d been talking far longer than Vincent had realised.

He enjoyed Piper’s company. Aw heck, may as well make a complete night off of it.

They headed to the Dugout Inn in search of more whiskey and as they opened the door, they were greeted with a gentle muttering and a clinking of glasses.

Vincent swayed a little and got to the bar just in time to steady himself.

“Generral, sir! It is good to see you! What can I do you for?” Vadim Bobrov beamed at Vincent, then Piper.

“Jus’ a whiskey and two glasses please Vadim,” Vin said.

“I am thinking this may not be the first of your night, eh? Am I right?” Vadim’s broad Slavic accent made Vin smile. He couldn’t help but like this fella.

“You know it Vadim.” Three patrons drifted out of the door singing “Crawl out through the Fallout back to meeeee!” That just left Hawthorne (unconscious on the couch, drooling) and an old woman nursing her beer in the corner. Piper leaned closer. “Hey, any chance you could do a V.I.P. tonight? I’ll pay for the rooms, if they’re both free?”

Yefim had overheard and came over. “Sure thing. You want breakfast too?”

“He will. Count me out.”

Vincent crashed down on the free sofa, set the two glasses out and started pouring. Vadim came out from behind the bar and bent down to say “Wakey wakey Hawthorne!” He woke with a start, shouted 'Run! Rad chicken!’, realised where he was and wiped the drool off his cheek and off the couch.

“No rooms free tonight, go and use Pastor’s couch again, eh?” “Wha? Oh, no problem. Yeah…see you 'round.” “See you 'round, Hawthorne,” Vincent echoed. Meanwhile, Yefim was ushering old Mildred gently out of the door. He went out briefly, came back and firmly closed the door.

Now it was just the Bobrov brothers, Piper and Vincent. “Where’d everyone go?”

“Relax, Blue. You get the V.I.P. treatment tonight. Basically, you can get as drunk as you like, sleep it off, wake up to a Radscorpion Omlette and if you made a complete fool of yourself, no-one will ever know.”

Vincent glanced quizzically at the brothers. Vadim nodded, “It’s true. More than our lives are worth to go gossiping about what we hear through an empty bottle. You go ahead, my friend. Enjoy.”

Vin settled back. “Sounds good to me. Though I’ll probably want bacon and eggs” Vadim and Yefim just looked at each other and shrugged, wondering what bay-kon was.

Piper sat across from him, carefully avoiding the dark drool stain. Vadim went off into the kitchen and Yefim made himself scarce.

Vincent took a swig. “So, Pipe. You’ve heard all about me, what say you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Piper launched into telling tales of her journalistic adventures, sipping her drink only now and then. She only stopped to buy a third bottle of whiskey and when she sat down again, looked long and hard at Vincent who was, by now, looking somewhat red in the face.

“I think this better be the last hurrah, Vin. Listen… you’re really not OK, are you?” Her brow was furrowed as she put the bottle down carefully on the table.

Vincent sat and stared at nothing in particular for a moment. “Thing is, Piper, no. No I’m not. I’m a friggin’ drunk. Came back from overseas, a war hero they said. Pinned a medal on me for doin’ terrible things. Nora was so mad at me. She said she wouldn’t have a child if it had a drunk for a father. So, I sobered up real quick. Tried to get stuck into suburbian civvy life. Really gave it a shot. Things were just starting to really look up…”

“Maybe I should hang on to the bottle for another day, then, Blue?”

Vincent grabbed the bottle before Piper could get hold of it. “May as well finish what I started. Sometimes you’ve gotta face your demons and take 'em out for a drink, get to know 'em. Pay attention and maybe they won’t keep at you when you walk away.”

“Alright Blue, you’re a big boy. 'Sides, no safer place I know of. Just…just don’t throw up on me, 'kay?”


	13. Vincent's Log 9

[F.A.O. Elder Maxson, L.C. Kells  
Sentinel General’s Report re: New Recruit

Cleared old theatre known as The Combat Zone of newly established Raider Gang. The cage fighter being held ‘under contract’ has now become my responsibility. Good melee skills, works well in a small team. Quite some potential but has an attitude problem. Will re-assess after a few more missions.]

*Personal Log - date [redacted]*

Cait’s a nightmare. I mean, she’s damn good in a fight up close and can look after herself, it’s just….her attitude sucks. She has no appreciation of the bigger picture, gets surly when we help folk and has the worst potty-mouth I ever heard on a woman. Still, my gut feeling is that there’s more to her than just self-preservation.

I don’t think she’s capable of the discipline necessary to join the Brotherhood proper so I’m considering training her as a Minuteman. However, it’d be disastrous to let her open her mouth at some settlements and she really doesn’t get the ideals. Maybe I need Preston to lecture her on kindness for an hour or two.

I don’t know, maybe the girl just needs some guidance. I’ll do what I can. If she doesn’t work out, I’ll send her over to Far Harbour and she can go beat up as many trappers and irradiated freaks as she likes, maybe earn some caps doing it. She did say she wanted out of the Commonwealth. *sigh*

I hope Ingram’s okay. Next time I get some coolant together, I’m gonna make her take that recommended medical leave she keeps avoiding and get her over to Red Rocket. Hmm… better fix up the place first. I’ve no idea what she likes to eat or drink. Maybe Dan knows.

*Recording ends*


	14. The Secret

The rain hammered down on the metal roof of the Red Rocket garage. Vincent checked the time on his Pipboy, with concern creasing his weathered forehead.

“Don’t worry, Blue, she’ll show. I mean, who could stand you up?”

“Um…thanks?” Vincent lifted a eyebrow at Piper. Dogmeat trotted in and shook himself briefly, raindrops flying everwhere. “Oh, thanks pal! You sayin’ I need a shower? Go stay with the kid, buddy, go on.”

Dogmeat barked his understanding and trotted off to where the boy was engrossed in comics.

The rooms that opened on to the garage were homely, in a tatty sort of way. Plastic potted plants, rugs and pictures, low tables  
and stools and a rare, unused, comfy couch filled the room.

Piper looked up. “Ah…think I can hear your sweetheart coming. I’d know the stomp of power armour anywhere. Time to make myself scarce.”

“Just a moment, Piper, I’d like you to meet her.”

“Yeah, great impression that’d make, walking in on her hero and another woman.”

“Good point.”

Piper moseyed out and called over her shoulder, “I’ll make sure Shaun stays outta trouble. We’ll meet her in the morning,” she winked.

* * *

The rain had stopped, revealing an early evening sky. Metal boots crunched on the broken tarmac, making Vincent jump up expectantly. No turrets went off; must be a friendly, Piper was right. He went through the outer door to the concrete courtyard, past the doghouse and out under the gas station roof.

The tall, loping, power armoured figure stopped as it entered the glow of the industrial wall light.

“Well, that was an uneventful trip,” said the tousle-haired woman, wiping a raindrop off the end of her nose.

Vincent gave a sigh of relief and a handsome half-smile. “You’re soaking wet.”

“Tell me about it. I don’t oil this suit soon I’m going nowhere fast.”

Vincent led Ingram (“I told you, call me Tess”) into the garage.

“I’m gonna need a hand. Can I use your ‘frame?” she nodded towards the industrial yellow support.

“I’ve something better. Here, dry off with this.” Tess snatched the makeshift towel - made of an old T-shirt judging by the one remaining sleeve - and dried her hair back to its usual mussed state.

Vincent pressed the large button on the wall which opened a shutter to reveal the comfortable living space. “Right this way, m'lady” he said, with a sweep of his arm.

Behind the new, red couch and through a door, Tess strode, ducking slightly at the doorframe. Within was another power armour frame but this one had grab rails around it and cabinets of different heights forming a staircase of sorts.

“Try it out. I guessed at the rail heights but you should be able to hoik yourself free of your suit. I can soon change things if need be.” Vincent stood watching the handsome woman, her face a picture of surprise.

“You did this…for me?” she asked. Vincent just smiled.

Ingram gazed over it with a professional eye. “Looks sound. That could be up a bit higher but looks sturdy enough. It’ll serve. I’m impressed, Sentinel!

“At ease, Proctor! Call me Vin.” (Even as he said it, the image of MacCready suddenly laughing Nuka Dark out of his nose and saying ‘Vin! I just realised it sounds like ‘Vim’! That’s it now buddy, you’re VIMcent! Hahaha!’ made him let out an amused huff).

Tess carefully backed into the frame, unlocked the suit which opened like metallic petals and eased herself out. Strong arms and core made up for her lack of legs as she swung back onto the steps and shuffled down to the carpeted floor.

“Whew! Not bad, Vin. Not bad at all!”

Vincent had perched himself on the recently unwrapped sofa. Anything new and unused was such a luxury these days. He moved over, waiting for her to join him. She moved a little awkwardly out of the powered frame that replaced her legs but managed to negotiate her way to sit beside him.

“You’re….enchanting,” was all he could think to say. Tess quickly blushed and wriggled around to try and get more comfortable.  
“Well, I can certainly say no-one has ever called me that before!”

Vincent felt as if he had sandworms in his belly, he was so nervous. Had it been like this with Nora? He couldn’t reach the memories. He hoped they hadn’t shattered in the deep freeze.

“Tess, there are some things you need to know. Secrets in my keeping. You came all the way out here without a mission so I trust that you only came because I asked for your company.”

“Because you asked me to finally take that medical leave, yes. Because I chose to spend time with you, so spit it out, man. I don’t like beating around the rusty bush.”

Vincent drank from the half-filled glass beside him. “I have feelings for you, Tess. If you feel the same then I need to take a huge risk.”

“I…what kind of risk?”

“The kind that throws a spanner in the works unless we see eye to eye. The kind that leads to conflict between the Minutemen and the Brotherhood if I’ve read you wrong.”

“That serious? Vincent, tell me what’s going on. You have my respect and my trust and I hope its mutual.” Ingram’s concern looked about ready to turn to panic.

“Let me ask you a question first. What do you think of Gen 3 synths?”

“To be honest, they disturb me. They’re not like the Gen one or twos, programmable robots - sophisticated for sure but made of metal and plastic. Those, I can wrap my head around. The threes though…they’re something else. The tech is beyond anything we have. They can be identical replacements of people. Are they stolen personalities forced into a manufactured body? We don’t really know how they take programming or if they’re more like…well…taught. Elder Maxson would never say so but he’s afraid of them. I see it in his eyes.”

“I saw it too. Do you think synths could be… people…in their own right?”

Ingram drew a deep breath and tilted her head to one side. “The line is so fuzzy. I really don’t have enough information. Proctor Quinlan may know more, though.”

“If he does, I doubt we’ll see it unless Maxson needs us to. Anyway, moot point as they mustn’t know about this conversation.” Vincent rubbed the bridge of his nose, then said, “Danse is alive.”

Ingram cocked her head back and stared hard at Vincent before replying, “And Maxson knows.”

“Wh…yes! How did you know that?”

“Had a hunch. He’s been broodier than usual and roasted a Scribe of mine who accidentally mentioned him. Where is Danse? Is he OK?”

Vincent had just started to reply when the turrets burst to life and an eerie warhorn-like howl split the air. He jumped up, grabbed his gauss and ran out yelling “Dan! Backup. We got greenskins!

Tess grabbed a combat shotgun but sat firm, teeth gritted, angry at having been caught vulnerable. The only thing keeping her out of her modified power armour and the fight was the voice she heard shouting in reply to Vin’s.

It was over in a moment. Ears still ringing, Vincent made his way back to The Cabin, as he’d nicknamed it, with Danse in tow. They entered the room and Ingram slung the shotgun over her lap and looked silently at the man she knew so well. “It’s good to see you again, Proctor Ingram,” Danse offered, as though he hadn’t been exiled and as though this woman might not turn them all in as traitors.

“It’s true. If you hadn’t’ve been wearing that pretty sweet X-0’ I might not have recognised you, Danse.”

“I go by Dan now,” (though MacCready had taken to calling him Diesel Dan). Vincent sat next to Tess whilst Dan stood like a metallic boulder in the doorway. Vincent coughed. “So Tess. We’re trusting you. It isn’t just about keeping Dan safe, though,” Vin paused, looking down at the floor. “It’s about…Shaun. He’s a… he doesn’t know he’s a synth.”

Ingram was genuinely shocked to hear this news. “That kid we rescued? He’s…?” “More than that, Tess. He is my real son’s parting gift. An apology of sorts. A twisted way of trying to set things straight. Shaun doesn’t know and I’m not about to tell him. I don’t know if he’s even able to grow like a normal kid!” Vincent stroked his moustache. “It’s complicated and I’m uncomfortable with him being around but…if I’m forced to choose, again, I’ll be protecting my family. Understood?”

A sudden realisation hit Ingram. “You…you weren’t infiltrating the Railroad. You were a part of it…and you carried out Maxon’s orders anyway? Vin, I…I’m so sorry.”

Vincent visibly withdrew into himself. After a moment, he spoke quietly, “I wasn’t getting out of there without betraying somebody. War got personal. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

Outside, the wind had got up and was threatening a radstorm.

Ingram cupped Vincent’s cheek gently in her hand. “I’ll do what I can to help. These poor bastards never asked to be created, to replace living, human beings. What the Institute did was wrong. These are innocent beings. Don’t worry,“ she said, glancing between Danse and Vincent. "I’ve got your back.”


	15. Vincent's Log 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Log 10 has been lost. Perhaps it'll turn up someday. Continuing Vincent's journey...

*Personal Log May 2288*  
Now what the [redacted] did I go and do that for? Way to go, dumbass.

I was fixing up 88 and taking a tour round with Cait in tow. We’d not long come back from 95 with her all cleaned up, new leaf turned well and truly over.

She got all flustered. Turns out she’s developed feelings for me. Geez, I am no knight in shining combat armour but I think she took my gesture to heart. I admit, I was blunt with her. She brushed it aside but I could see that was not the response she was hoping for.

So after having turned the lunatic cage-fighter junkie into a fine recruit, I then go and smash down that pedestal she seems to have put me on by taking a Daytripper pill in front of her.

The unnerving thing is, I wasn’t even thinking. I took it as casually as chewing gum, just because I was after a bit of a pick me up. Stupid, Vincent. Stupid.

I know this stuff can mess you up real bad. So can enough whiskey. *sigh* I don’t know how to cope, Nora. Wish you were here to whip my butt back into shape, make me see sense. I’d go to Tess but I don’t wanna risk losing her.

Dammit. Gotta get clean. Stay sober. Too much at stake here.

I really, really miss chocolate cake. *click*


	16. Vincent's Log 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Real life disclaimer: drugs are dangerous. Don’t abuse yourself with them, you are too precious a part of life for that. This is just a story.)

[Personal Log; Date **/**/2288]

It isn’t just the whiskey anymore. That doesn’t help as much as it used to. Heh, if Chems Anonymous Natick was still around, I’d be sittin’ in that circle right now. “ Hi, my name’s ‘V’ and I’m a chem addict…but I CAN quit.”

That world doesn’t exist anymore. Travis is playing 'It’s all over but the crying’ again…yeah….I really don’t know if I can quit. I don’t want to. Having Hancock tagging along isn’t helping any.

Or maybe it is. Maybe I just need to run with it for a bit. I can always take addictol or fry up a Radscorp’ omlette. I can whip up some of that refreshing beverage (sober-pop, MacCready called it). Damn. I gotta find some of that Daytripper stuff. Haven’t found anyone who sells it though and I don’t have the recipe.

Not that I have to take chems just to put up with ol’ pruneface. No, he’s alright, is Hancock. Heart’s in the right place and he’s helping folk, those who don’t accept help easily, so he has my respect for that.

He can handle himself in a fight and he’s proving to be a true friend. Maxson and Garvey may not like it but we need him and as such, I’ve promoted him to Brigadier General. The Neighbourhood Watch is peculiar to Goodneighbour at the moment but once some of the other settlements get big enough, we’ll set up Watches there too and Hancock can handle the details.

I’ll just try not to overdo the booze and chems. I know I’ve people around me who won’t let me get outta hand. I just need a break now and then.

I went back to visit Nora. John was with me. I’d only gone back to get that freeze-ray thing now I know my way 'round a bobby pin better. I hadn’t meant to go down to the cryo-pod bay. I just found myself there. She… she looks like she’s sleeping. I hope that one day, someone’ll take what’s left of me to sleep beside her.

No. I can’t do this anymore. I need to get back to Tess. I can’t keep living in the past. Nora’s gone. Shaun’s gone. I’m still here. *sigh* Get over yourself, Vin. If you have to pop Bufftats now and then to do it, then fine. Just don’t screw this up. You’re supposed to be a goddam hero. *click*


	17. Interview with a Companion, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turn on Diamond City Radio and learn about the Sentinel General from those closest to him!

◇Travis: “You’re tuned to Diamond City Radio. Hey folks, we have an exclusive here tonight! Tryin’ something new for you good people. You’ve probably picked up a copy of Publick Occurences at some point. Well, I have _the_ Piper Wright in the trailer along with special guest, Robert Joseph MacCready…or should I say Knight Major MacCready. Welcome to Diamond City Radio’s humble abode.”

◇MacCready: “Hey, man.”

◇Piper: “Thankyou, Travis! Piper Wright here with an exclusive interview broadcast! I’ll be speaking to those closest and dearest to the hero of the Commonwealth, the man out of time, Sentinel General Vincent Nathaniel Hudson.”

T: “Whoa, jump right in there, Miss Wright, be my guest!” *MacCready almost stifles a snigger*

P: “Thanks. Without further ado, let’s hear from the eagle-eyed, sharpshooting ex-Gunner himself. So, MacCready, what made you leave the Gunners?”

M: “Thaaat’s a long story you’re not going to get to hear. If I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t be here now, breathing smoke. Only one man I know of coulda got the drop on me and I call him brother, these days. So glad I took that job!”

P: “So…you met the Vault Dweller in Goodneighbour? What was your first impression of him?”

M: “Yeah. Well, I had a hunch this guy was different to my usual clientele. He was quiet, intense and…and sad-lookin’. I didn’t know how to read that at first, ‘til I got to know him.”

P: “So he hired you?”

M: “That’s right. I didn’t ask why (usually safer that way as a merc).“

P: “Looking back now, why do you think you got the job, now you know our hero well?”

M: “For a start, he’s not one to bask in the glory so let’s just call him by his name, OK?”

P: “Alrighty.”

M: “Well, Vincent is alot like me in some ways. A dad, a fighter and a widower. He hates being alone. If you see him, odds are there’s someone or other he trusts tagging along nearby.”

P: “True, true. On occassion its yours truly!”

M: “Make sure its occassional. He’s good but we wouldn’t want our favourite reporter out of action now, would we?”

“P: "Right. *cough* Moving on. The Brotherhood are still viewed by some as invaders. How has Vincent’s presence changed things?”

M: “Never thought I’d be one of ‘em but Vin took a risk. He saw something others were overlooking. I know for a fact that his views on things are a bit different to that of the top brass but when he became General of the Minutemen, when he’d already joined the Brotherhood, that made alot of regular folks take a shine to him. He’s saved face for the Brotherhood in the eyes of the common folk by being a bridge between the two ga…um..forces. No denying that the Commonwealth masses would still be giving us ‘tin cans’ the cold shoulder without him.”

P: “Well, a little politeness goes a long way.”

M: “Yeah, some of ‘em can be downright condescending but they’ve got the best intentions really.”

P: “Good intentions can sometimes take you down the wrong road though. Gotta be careful there.”

M: “Absolutely.”

T: “Okay, time for one more question, Miss Wright.”

P: "No problemo, Travis. So MacCready, tell us something about Vincent that annoys you and something you love.”

“M: Haha! You tryin’ to get me in deep water, Piper? Actually, yeah. Water. Man doesn’t seem to care about wading through Mirelurk scum to get to crap I’d’ve left behind. I hate getting wet. But then he goes and turns that crap into something da…er..real useful. He’s pretty handy to have around!”

P: “To clarify, is that last part what you love about him?”

M: “Well, yeah but there’s alot more I admire. The guy is basically the older brother I never had.”

T: “Thankyou to Piper Wright of Publick Occurrences - get your copy from newsgirl Nat here in Diamond City - and to Knight Major MacCready, Minutemen Division of the Brotherhood of Steel, giving us victory at a minute’s notice. (Wow. That’s..uh…that’s fast!) There’ll be another of the Sentinel’s circle in the hot seat next time! Make sure to tune in but now, here’s some more melody to lift your melancholy. Let’s Crawl Out through the Fallout together….”  
◇


	18. Interview with a Companion, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More from Travis at Diamond City Radio

◇ “Good morning Commonwealth, Travis ‘Lonely’ Miles here, bringing you a second exclusive interview broadcast. So shut out the radstorm and huddle close to your radio because Miss Piper Wright is raring to introduce you to today’s special guest!”

P: “Thankyou Travis, not so lonely this morning, though! It’s a little cosy in here! *brief male belly laugh* Hey good people, today we have the pleasurable company of the man behind the success story, Paladin Colonel Preston Garvey!”

G: “Woah, that’s quite the introduction, Miss Wright but a little exaggerated. I’m pleased to be here.”

P: “Modest as always, Colonel. After all, you took a huge risk, putting your faith in the Vault Dweller. How did you know it would work out?”

G: “Truth is, I didn’t. I just had a good feeling in that moment and followed it.”

P: “Well, the whole Commonwealth is glad you did! So, tell us your first impression of Sentinel General Vincent.“

G: A little intimidating, actually. He’s a big man, you can tell he’s no stranger to a fight. The thing that got me, though, was that he listened. Really listened. He was a bit blunt - I’d really no idea what he’d just been through - but he still took the time to help us out. That quality is rarer than uranium these days.”

P: “Isn’t it, though? I’d just like to point out that Vincent had joined the Brotherhood before he finally agreed to become General of the Minutemen. How did that sit with you? This giant battle balloon turns up and the Minutemen are down to their last few, did that make you uncomfortable?”

G: “You’re right, it did. It’s no secret that the Minutemen fell apart from the inside at Quincy. At one point I was the last active member. If the Brotherhood had come here to conquer then we wouldn’t have stood a chance. We didn’t know what their real intentions were, behind their placatory announcement. So, as we gathered our strength, we initially thought to leave well alone. Then Vincent turned up and it dawned on me that maybe the cavalry had just arrived - if we could work side by side.“

P:“Nurturing co-operation seems to be your forté, Paladin-Colonel.”

G:“Well sure, we all have a better chance of surviving when we stick together. It’s a basic animal instinct.”

P:“I’ve heard it said that you treat the Sentinel like an errand boy. Care to comment?”

G: *deep throated laughter* "Whoever is saying that doesn’t want to apply for the job of errand boy! It is extremely hazardous, travelling the Commonwealth. More so when you arrive at your destination to find it swarming with unfriendlies. Yes, I gather information, prioritise it and keep the maps up to date but my superior officer (and very dear friend, I might add), risks life and limb to secure safe havens for those settlers who make it.“

P: "So he’s well travelled, a skilled survivalist and a bit of a handyman by all accounts. Tell me, Preston, what is your dear friend really talented at and what is he terrible at?”

G: “He is a very skilled war veteran. He’s adaptable and great with kids. Also, an excellent cook. What is he bad at? Um…well, let’s just say that when I start whistling and Vincent starts singing along, Saxon tends to turn up the castle speaker volume so Radio Freedom drowns us out. *chuckle* Yeah, we’re both a bit tone-deaf!”

T: “One last question, Miss Wright, if you please.”

P: Oh! Okaay..Time flies, hey? So, Preston, we all know how much Vincent has done for the commonwealth but what has he done for you, personally?“

G: "You mean, besides tweak my laser musket? Well….that’s…that’s quite personal. *a brief silence* He’s given me the faith to carry on. Faith in humanity, that it’s all worth it, despite how many times we fall or how badly we screw things up. There’s always room for a little light to break through the rainclouds.”

T: “Well, there you have it, folks and what better lead up to this next tune? Remember, follow Paladin-Colonel Garvey’s example…we gotta accentuate the positive! You’re listening to Diamond City Radio, posi-tively here for you.” ◇


	19. Interview with a Companion, Part 3

◇ “…crooning for the Commonwealth; that was smooth, wasn’t it? If you’ve just tuned in this is your host, Travis ‘Lonely’ Miles and you timed it right to hear an exclusive interview here on Diamond City Radio. Here with me now is Miss Piper Wright of Publick Occurrences and her special guest. Fair warning folks, this one is somewhat controversial.

P: “Thankyou Travis, for giving airtime to a very important issue, one especially pertinent to Diamond City. Yes, my guest today is none other than the newly appointed Brigadier General of the Minutemen, the one you know as Mayor of Goodneighbour, ghoul of the people, John Hancock!

H: “Well, thankyou, sugarbomb. I’m glad to be here…and still breathing, hehe.”

P: “Yes. For those that don’t know, Diamond City has been a ghoul-free zone since the late Mayor McDonough passed a ruling against Ghoul men, women and - now we know they exist - children, from entering the great green jewel. It is hushed up but DC has a skeleton in her closet, tarnishing her reputation. Ghouls - hardworking, good people who had been aversely affected by radiation were driven out of their homes by their neighbours. Not all of them found safe places to live outside the Wall but one has stepped up and made Goodneighbour the refuge it is today.

P:“Hancock, how did you feel being back in Diamond City when the Sentinel General had you accompany him recently?”

H: “Like everyone was staring but hey, I’m used to being the centre of attention. Least I got a few friends there still.”

P: “Hmm. So, what was it like being there under the protective wing of our hero?”

H: “Yeah, lets not get into the politics of it now, Sweetroll, huh? Well, our Vincent is a damn fine friend. He’s a man after my own heart. I’ve had my eyes opened to the state of the Commonwealth and the needs of the people because this one victim of Vault-Tec’s crazy science made an honourable decision. He coulda turned psycho raider after all the crap he’s been through. Now, he’s still human, unlike some, and if he has a little pick-me-up now and again, don’t judge him alright? But yeah, I’d been needing to step outta my comfort zone, expand my reach. Just wanna help the people, ya know? So our hero offers me a position in the Minutemen division, basically doing what I do but bigger…and a fancy new coat. Who am I to argue? Even if he did insist on prying a few stars off the collar before handing it over.”

P: “I suppose everone has their vices, ya look hard enough. What’s Vincent’s vice of choice?“

H: "Aside from whiskey and cigars, I ain’t sayin’. I respect his privacy. Anything else you wanna ask before I have to get outta here?”

P: "Yup, last one. Tell us something you love about the Sentinel General and something you dislike.“

H: "His eyes.”

P: “Uh…pardon me?”

H: “I love his eyes. Kind of aqua green, you know. Scars’re pretty sexy too. I can feel him blushing from here. *gutteral laugh* What don’t I like? Think I caught him selling somethin’ on that I’d just given him. That irked me some.”

T: "Time’s up. I’d like to thank our guests, Miss Piper Wright and Brigadier General..um..Mayor… John Hancock. Quite a mouthful there Mr. Mayor.

H:“So I’m told.”

T: "Oookaaay. Let’s…let’s remember, folks. Be kind to ghouls. Unless they’ve gone feral. Then deal with it, you know what I’m sayin’? Time for some tunes now on Diamond City Radio, starting with ‘He’s a Demon, he’s a devil, he’s a Doll’ ◇


	20. Vincent's Log 13

*Personal entry. Date: **/**/2288

I lose track of time. Especially underground. I don’t hate Vaults, just… really disagree with the original warped intentions behind them. 111 is a morgue. 88 is a cave with a town in it now, my town, ‘Nora’s Hope’. 95 is cleared but just good for supply runs, as is 114 unless there were any Triggermen left to move back in. Note to self, go and check it out.

Then there’s 81…I couldn’t believe it when Hancock and I stepped through that door. A working vault, maintained for two centuries, supporting a limited number of generally safe and happy people. It even has a cat - who I had to go rescue. I don’t think Ashes will wander out again.

One of the first residents I met was a kid. Austin. He reminds me so much of myself, his ginger mop that he hates combing, his willingness to help but expectation of fair pay, his enthusiasm. It struck me as I jogged after him on a tour of the place, just how different Shaun is. I mean, I noticed something was missing but couldn’t put my finger on it.

I guess than Shaunbot (gee, don’t call him that to his face!) is too calm. Too quiet. Even introverted kids have their moments but he’s… too perfect. Austin has this zing about him. He’s going to grow up just swell. I hope I get to meet the man he’ll become.

Perhaps I should bring Shaun over to mingle with the 81 kids, or send him to school in Diamond City. Then again, maybe its safer for everyone that he stay where he is. Must remember to bring Austin and his friend a toy each next time I visit. Kid’s just like me.

I wish I could remember my parents, my grandparents, my school days. Damn you Vault-Tec for freezing half my life away. Guess I’ll live with the blasted remains and hope some good bits of my past defrost. The bad bits can stay and rest in hell.*click*


	21. Vincent's Log 14

*Personal Log 07/19/2288* The phrase ‘I’ve made a new friend’ comes to mind…though it’s too jokey and I didn’t actually make her. I did open a door, though and she leapt through pretty damn quick.

I don’t know what this is that makes us 'alive’. Never been the religious type but something’s going on that we may never fully understand…..manufactured bodies becoming seemingly alive? Hey, I don’t know how 'essence of Vin’ got into this scarred ol’ meatbag I call a body, but I’m here.

Well, it turned out that a Miss Nanny took 200 odd years to cook into what seems to clearly be a thinking, feeling being. With some help we found her a synthetic meatbag of her very own. Crazy ride.

So she’s been shadowing me for a while now. We’ve become…friends. She understands perfectly what that means. My views on Gen 3s are crystal clear now. How to bring the subject up with Maxson without starting a civil war though, I don’t know.

'Cutie’ approached me while I was busy working on Hancock’s new settlement. She said she had an experiment to run and when I turned to face her to ask about it she tried to kiss me! I got flustered, tried to explain how I was with another woman which only confused her after witnessing Hancock’s…er..liberal behaviour.

Intellectually, she’s brilliant. Emotionally, I’ve a love-starved teenager on my hands. Maybe its time I took her to Arcadia where she might really belong. I can’t travel alone but as much as I like the doll I just can’t deal with that. Missing Tess something awful. I hope her next ground leave comes around soon. *click*


	22. Vincent's Log 15

*Personal L***zzttt [bang] stupid thing*288* Note to self. Pip-boy is waterproof but apparently not so Quantum river-proof.

Finally found a useable workshop area at a Red Rocket near Nuka World. I have to say, it’s pretty peaceful there. Think I’ll settle it by invite only, too big a plot to keep all to myself. Nick came along after we’d settled some business over at Far Harbor.

Girl’s safe and happy to stay. I’m not comfortable around DiMA and I don’t think Nick is, either. So here we are, mopping up the stragglers of the three raider gangs (plus a few Gunners and their toys), picking up two hundred year old trash to make into somethin’ useful.

Valentine has an old case he’d like my help with, a criminal that I’d actually heard of. Seems he stuck around but not like me. ‘Frozen banana’, c'mon… Anyways, there’s a chance we could dig this guy up and deliver justice, finally. Winter, we’re comin’ for you.

Nick is convinced he’s not the original Valentine. I don’t know, though. I find it hard to believe that an entire personality can be copied in such detail. I mean, I half expect to see a human face if he starts talkin’ when I’m not looking. Then I see those yellow peepers of his, not to mention being able to see right through bits of the guy and it just doesn’t sit right. I reckon he was the first full-body transplant patient. Heh… I’ll ask Curie next time I see her, she’d love that.

First though, I’m gonna put my feet up and enjoy this sunset with a cigar in one hand an’ a whiskey in the other. Next medical leave Cade allows, I’m bringin’ Tess over here. How is that short for Gertrude, anyway? Must remember to ask her. Oh man. She’d love this view. *click*


	23. Love's Echo

Comfortable. Peaceful. Safe. Three things Vin hadn’t felt at the same time for too long. He rolled over in his bed at ‘Nuka Rocket’ and sank into sleep, the only light coming from the glow of Nick’s cigarette in the next room.

~ Vincent handed Nora the Bugle. “See here, honey. New built, enough room for the car and the motorcycle, out near the countryside. Think of all those woodland walks and picnics we could finally get around to.”

“Are there good schools nearby? You know, we’ve got to plan ahead.”

Vincent caught her waist as she swished past and drew her close. “You always do, Nora. Details, that’s your thing.”

“Did you sign us up, dear?” Nora tugged at his uniform collar.

“What for?”

“The Nuka Cola challenge. You know, collect bottletops and get them checked at the store? Win a family ticket?” Nora brushed a flake of paint out of her hair.

“Oh…you know, I prefer a Gwinnet or a decent whiskey.”

Nora playfully punched her husband’s shoulder. “They won’t accept those, dummy. Anyway, Mrs McDonough across the way says that there are prizes if you collect 50 caps or more!”

“They just want you to buy soda, hun. You’re a lawyer, how could you fall for that?”

“Well,” Nora wiped a flurry of ash from her cheek with a frown,“when the baby comes we’ll be able to take her places like that.”

Vincent felt a strong breeze across his face and threw an annoyed glance at the hole in the ceiling. “I’m telling you, it’ll be a boy. I just know it.”

“How about one of each?”

“Yeah, ok, Vin smiled warmly. “A human and a synth.”

There was a knock at the door and Nora turned toward it. “Oh, I have to go. My friend Jennifer’s here.” Vincent lifted Nora by the waist as he stood, pausing for a long, lingering kiss whilst ignoring the sound of roof tiles falling.

Nora opened the door and there stood a glamourous blonde, like an actress from a musical. She greeted Nora with a peck on each cheek and Vincent handed Nora her coat, with a carrot flower tucked into the lapel.

“We’ll be gone but not forgotten, Vincent, darling.” The blonde starlette, arm in arm with Nora, said “Tell the tin man his heart is as real as his memories. There’s only ever been one Valentine.”

Nora blew him a kiss then the women turned into the rushing wave of nuclear devastation and Vincent only heard his scream when he woke up.

“Woah pal, you alright there? Just a dream, just a bad dream,” Nick’s soothing tones broke through the panic.

Vincent wiped sweat from his brow and a tear from his eye. He just sat, staring at nothing for a short while until Nick, worried, prompted, “We’re safe. You’re alright, my friend.” He paused as Vincent met his gaze. “Chems before bed again? I tell ya, those things’ll mess you up. Here, let me get you a coffee with just a dash o’ whiskey in it. Always worked for me. Being a police detective was no walk in the park. Had my fair share o’ bad dreams. Well…old Nick did, anyway.”

Vin, still sat up in bed, reached out to put a hand on Nick’s dilapidated mechanical arm and told him what Jenny had said in the dream but kept the rest to himself. The synth stumbled back into a chair and held his own silence for a moment. Finally, he recovered enough to mumble “Well, ain’t life strange? Think I’m gonna join you in the whiskey.” He awkwardly got up and headed for the ‘kitchenette’.

Vin could hear him mutter as he opened the rusty coffee can, “I guess, Jenny darling, true love never changes.”


	24. Atom Cats' Poetry Night

Vincent changed into his t-shirt, leather jacket and jeans. For a moment he felt pangs for his old motorcycle but those vanished when he stepped into a freshly painted suit of T-60 power armour, artistic flames licking at its contours.

Travelling alone, he arrived at the Atom Cats’ garage just before sundown. “Heeey, Jack!“ came a voice as slick as the greased pompadour of its owner. “Park your suit and pull up a stool. Bluejay’s just got a whole crate of beer in.” Zeke sauntered up and gave Vin a pat on the back. "Groovy paint job, man. You did good.”

Roxy and the others gathered at the bar. “Hey, Cat,” she said. Vincent looked up. “You know you guys can call me Vin, right?”

Yeah, Jack, we know,“ said Johnny D. with a Cheshire grin as Zeke stepped forward.

“Right everone, give the Cat the floor. This here is his very first poetry night. Let’s hear your rhythm, Jack. Rowdy, you got that recorder workin’ again?” “You know it, Zeke. Ain’t no machine shy o’ me.” This was the moment Vin had been dreading. He took a swig of beer, then another and fished about in the jacket pocket for the scrap of paper.

Duke was the last to be seated and the big old tin shed grew quiet, save for the jukebox on low and brief, distant gunfire, the fire barrel crackling as if in reply.

“Alright. *cough* I call it ‘Chivalry’

The boy I was had one tin knight, the man I was learned how to fight, became a hero overnight with medals polished, new and bright but felt no honor for it.

The man I am gets called ‘tin can’, was frozen, woken, here I am, torn from my life as family man, to find the world a ruined sham and blaze revenge upon it.

If I could tell the boy I was, a knight he’d be and all because despite the fallout of the bombs, that few kept hope and chivalrous became the ones we needed.

So I in power armor too, ascend into the greenish-blue, where castle Prydwen into view, above the rad-clouds parting through, to find my lady Ingram.

She strides on legs of metal now, with oil and grease upon her brow, what once was lost in her I found, with brothers here and on the ground, she warmed my heart, defrosted.

This epic tale to end I aim, encumbered under much acclaim, escape weighty unlooked for fame, to have a beer and play a game with cool cats all around me.”

There was a gulf of silence before the applause erupted, peppered with 'Whoa!’ and 'Epic, man!’ and mutterings of appreciation. Zeke stood up. “That, Jack, was just, like, amazing. Thankyou, sincerely.”

Roxy leaned in. “Are you saying that… that you’re the one?”  
Vincent, on to the whiskey now, suddenly realised thay the Atom Cats hadn’t before twigged that he was the 'Vault-Dweller’, General of the Minutemen and Sentinel of the Brotherhood of Steel. He said, drunkenly, “Ya could say that I’m the one one one.”


	25. Vincent's Log 16

[Personal Log **/**/2288] ‘Nuka Rocket’ is coming along but Valentine and I returned to the Castle as I needed to catch up with Preston. Been bouncing between settlements, clearing nearby ghoul and raider threats and quite frankly, its all starting to get a bit déjà-vu.

If only we had more troops. You clear a place out and before ya know it, the site’s crawling with unfriendlies again. I swear I don’t know where they’re comin’ from but I’m glad they don’t have the sense to mob together.

There are things I’ve been putting off. The potential threat in Far Harbor; going back to Sanctuary Hills; confronting Maxson. Always something to do, trouble is, my judgement is getting clouded. Perhaps I should talk it over with someone…who, though? Nick will want to follow Kasumi’s lead at Arcadia, Preston will want me to make a town out of Sanctuary, Dan’s still loyal to the Brotherhood and would probably either warn me off or go into detail about talking with Arthur.

Curie would just raise more questions, Cait just wants to pick a fight and my canine pal doesn’t give a dogshit which leaves Hancock and MacCready. Which could be a disastrous conversation or the perfect one. Looks like another risk to take, then. I’d better bring Mentats and beer. *click*


	26. Interview with a Companion, Part 4

◇ “…all the golden oldies we can find on Diamond City Radio. Travis ‘Lonely’ Miles here with a special treat. Yes, our very own effective detective, Nick Valentine, is here to chat with Piper Wright. Listen up as we find out about the man of the moment from those who travel with him. Over to you, Miss Wright.”

P: “Thankyou Travis. Nick Valentine is a well known figure throughout the Commonwealth, partly for his constant efforts to help others and partly because he has a rather arresting appearance.

P: “So, Detective Valentine, what was your first impression of the man out of time?“

V: "Well, Piper, he was more like ‘the man right on time’ for me, considering he rescued me from a sticky situation. So, yeah, circumstances were in his favour. You don’t really trust anyone ‘til you’ve had a chance to get to know them but I trusted my gut and it really paid off.”

P: “What was Vincent’s reaction when he saw what…who you are?”

V: “What I am is a bit of the Institute’s dirty laundry, a Gen 2.5 as it were. Who I am…well, that was a question I didn’t really have an answer to when I met Vin. His reaction? He wasn’t long outta the deep freeze and I don’t think he’d seen a synth before, so he was a bit more stunned than most. He got over it pretty quick though and focussed on the situation which is more than some I’ve met ever do.”

P: “I know that you have become firm friends. Rumour was he might even get his name added to the neon outside your office. 'Vin & Valentine doesn’t sound half bad.”

V: *a warm chuckle* “It was a joke but we did seriously consider it for about half a day.”

P: “Did the friendship happen quickly or did he take a while to warm to you?”

V: “Actually, he was pretty gruff and distant for a long time. After I’d done the job he hired me for, I figured that, being Brotherhood, he’d never speak to me again. However, when I got a new case that I needed help with, it was Ellie that suggested we put out a call.

"Sometimes, a person has to go off and learn a few things before they’re ready to deepen a relationship.”

P: “So he came back, a Sentinel General. What was it, do you think, he had learned when you met him for the second time?”

V: “An awful lot. He’d been through a hell of a transformation in such a short time. Life has not been kind to that man but still he keeps going - and not just for himself.”

P: “What cases have you worked on together?”

V: “You know those are confidential, doll, though I will say that finding people and tying up loose ends featured heavily. There’s still a file or two we need to look into but when you carry as many titles as our friend does, you get a mite busy.”

P: “You don’t say! Okay, final double-barrelled question, Nicky. What do you like and not like about Vincent?”

V: “I don’t think it’s very good manners to air personal niggles to the public but I will gladly tell you what I like about the man. He’s genuine. If he asks how you are, he really wants to know. If he asks how he can help, he’ll risk his life for a good cause. He’ll come back for you an’ Stimpak you in the middle of a fight and he sees the big picture clearer than most. He’s earned those fancy titles but more than that, he’s earned the respect and gratitude of the people of the commonwealth and its protectors.”

T: “Well thankyou Mr. Valentine. High praise indeed for the man we first knew as 'the Vault Dweller’. Remember, folks, you’ll be able to read a transcript of these interviews in the next issue of Publick Occurrences. Thankyou, Miss Wright.”

P: “No problem, Travis.”

T: “Now, settle back and enjoy Bob Crosby and the Bobcats crooning about those Dear Hearts and Gentle People, only on Diamond City Radio.” ◇


	27. Brothers

MacCready sidestepped the sliding deadweight of the mutant hound remains as the Sentinel General fired plasma just above Hancock’s tricorn. It was over. ‘Hancock’s Alley’, as it had been renamed, was safe again…for now.

The sniper could see the General and his Brigadier conversing and caught the gist of the conversation through the gleeful victory whoops of the settlers.

Vincent approached him. “Ok, take 15 and we’ll head northwest.” Mac winced, poking a nasty gash on his leg with a stimpack. “C'mon, Vin, we’ve barely stopped!”

His Sentinel-General’s stern expression softened. “Sorry, brother. You’re right. Can’t stop more than an hour before we head out, though, I’m concerned about the damage Sanctuary Hills took whilst we were busy.”

“Busy?” growled a rough voice.

“I’ll tell you about it if your wedgie of a settlement serves any decent beer, Hancock buddy,” MacCready teased.

“I’m gonna catch a few Z’s,” said Vincent, heading toward the stairs.

The Brigadier General of the ‘Watch and Knight-Major MacCready headed into the cramped alley. “Take a load off, Sir. What can I getcha?” said a youngish woman that the wasteland had been none too kind to.

“Couple o’ beers each, Peachy, cheers,” said the ghoul as he passed a few caps over.

MacCready sat back with legs stretched out on one of the fancy, plush old red couches that surrounded the communal cooking fire. “So…heard you tryin’ to sweet-talk our handsome hero. Won’t fly.”

Hancock adjusted his hat. “A fella can but try. Why, doesn’t he like ghoulies?”

Mac cracked up at the pun. “Hehe, kinda. I think he’s just a ladies’ man. That an’ the fact he’s sweet on someone.”

“Shame. Never been the one being told to tone down the emotion though. Felt weird.“ Hancock sighed. “What a hardass.”

“Well, you’re not going to find out just how hard it is so stop making those eyes,” MacCready frowned, trying not to let the fact show he was also talking to himself.

The beer arrived. They popped the caps and tipped them to their waitress. The night was well underway and MacCready really wasn’t looking forward to travelling by starlight, especially not after their visit to Cabot House had stirred his overactive imagination.

“He said he needed to talk to us both but it looks like the plan has changed.”

“What about?” Hancock asked.

“He only said something about trying to decide where to go next.” MacCready wiped beer froth off his ‘tache and crossed his arms.

“Seemed pretty decisive to me. If it weren’t that two’s company and three’s a bigger target, I’d come along with ya.” Hancock produced a rectangular packet and popped a pill from it. “Anyways, I gotta work on these defenses. Can’t let those green bastards get so close again.”

MacCready shivered, despite the night being not particularly cold.

“You Okey dokey, Macaroni?”

Mac scowled sideways at Hancock at the nickname. “ Just a little weirded out from the last mission. Alien freakin’ energy, a 400 year old mad scientist and his creepy family. I swear the world was less crazy before Vin thawed out.”

“World’s always been crazy, RJ. You just ain’t looked at it from the right angle before.”

The firebarrel crackled. Most of the settlers had gone to their beds now or stood immobile at their watch. The two companions chucked their glass bottles into the waiting crate just as boots crept down the steps.

Vincent was still wiping sleep out of his eyes and gulping water as his foot hit the ground. He signalled to MacCready.

“Ready?”

“Lemme just water the Mutfruit.”

Hancock stood up and adjusted his uniform, no longer the red coat of his namesake but the blue of the previous Minutemen General (minus a few stars). “You take care out there, brother. Here, for comin’ to our rescue.” Vincent reached out and gratefully took the bottle of Bufftats.

MacCready swaggered back, unabashedly struggling with his fly. The old zipper defeated, he swung his rifle over his shoulder and the two crept out into the dark streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who didn't get the 'ghoulies' joke: in the UK, 'goolies' is a nickname for balls. Whitechapel Charlie must have educated Hancock with that one. Now do you get it? ;)


	28. Tarnished Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent is confronted with his flaws. Deep wounds heal slowly.

MacCready tried again to tune the ham radio. Sturges couldn’t take the man’s abortive cussing anymore so he strode over to grab the dial. “Here. You gotta be gentle with it. Thing’s a bit pernickety at the best o’ times.” Hissing and crackling gave way to a clear tone.

“Thanks, Sturges,” Mac said in a subdued voice. He heard Saxon’s voice, Radio Freedom’s answer to Travis ‘Lonely’ Miles. This guy wasn’t an entertainer, though, he was a tactical communicator who just happened to play folksy music between important messages. MacCready waited as Saxon called the Paladin-Colonel over. His warm, reassuring voice soon came bounding over the radio waves.

“Greetings, Knight-Major MacCready.” (Mac had a little smirk at the line that could have come from a Grognak comic).“What can I do for you?”

“Hi Preston, er..hello sir. Just reporting in from Sanctuary. The damage wasn’t near as bad as we thought. Vi..the Sentinel-General is currently helping bolster defenses and has established a well-equipped hospital. Just add doctors.”

Preston’s amusement at this last statement pervaded his tone. “That’s wonderful news! The next medically trained settler that hears a beacon will be sent straight over. Anything else?”

“We found a potential settlement site near the coast on our way through. Also, there is… ah..I’ll discuss it when we return to the castle.”

“Alright, MacCready. Keep up the good work. Signing off.”

There was that warm afterglow once more. MacCready could get used to feeling appreciated again.

***

They arrived at the Castle a few days later. Preston, as usual, was found digging in the dirt just outside the castle walls. ‘Mothering those melons again,’ thought MacCready, then wondered where on earth these phrases came to him from.

Vincent greeted his old friend, grasping arms and patting each others backs. Vincent cast his gaze around the dusk-lit crop. “ Looks to be growing well, ” he complimented.

“We’re getting there. The soil is a little sandy but we’re managing. Shall we go inside?”

The three of them went through the only gate and up the narrow stairs. MacCready liked the castle. Lots of solid cover, high vantage points and Vin had done a great job of guiding the repairs.

They sat together at the General’s table. Vincent poured a finger of whiskey for each of them. “How’s everone back at Sanctuary doing? Mama Murphy OK?” inquired Preston.

Vincent frowned a little. “She’s having a few breathing problems and complained about her heart. The sooner we find a resident medic, the better.“ A frown appeared on Preston’s brow. Vincent continued, ” I had to quash a cruel joke going round about Marcy and Jun. I think it was one guy’s attempt at levity but it caught on and now Marcy is in a foul mood and Jun takes as many watches as he can, just to be on his own.” MacCready interjected: “That the one about the Long faces?” “Uh..you didn’t need to _say_ it, Mac.” “Sorry man.” Preston looked as though he wasn’t quite sure which expression to wear.  
“Well. Back to business, General. Thanks for getting the coastal cottage started. That place’ll be a thriving farm before you know it. Something else came up, a Courser has infiltrated a Raider gang.“ Vincent stifled a yawn. “Excuse me. Can we go over it in the morning, Garvey? I’m about ready to turn in.” “Wh..of course, General. Sorry, I hadn’t realised. Of course, you get a good rest. We’ll see ourselves out.” With that, MacCready tapped the empty glass down on the decorative table and motioned for Preston to go through the door first. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite, Vin. No, seriously, they’ll eat your toes!” MacCready winked as he closed the door behind him.

The grin quickly left him as he suggested that Preston accompany him to the parapet. Once up there, they chose the watch post that looked out to sea. It was hardly ever manned as the threat usually came from land. A single heavy laser turret guarded against ‘monsterfish’ a.k.a. Mirelurk Queens. Not that the castle would see another for the foreseeable.

“So, what do I have to worry about, MacCready? Preston waited patiently for the sniper to find the words. “I’m gettin’ really worried about Vin. He’s throwin’ back alot of Buffout, Bufftats too maybe. I got nothin’ against using a few chems here and there but he’s just picking up every bottle we see, stopping to use grotty lookin’ chem stations and carrying way too much junk for a sober guy. Even for one with muscles like a barbarian warrior. He’ll take addictol or a sober-pop but do it all over again. I also saw…” MacCready looked down at his boot, “I think I saw him give chems to the old lady.”

It was as if dark clouds gathered about Garvey. He sat stock still, breathing slowly, staring out across the waves. Finally, he spoke, authoritatively, quietly. “Thankyou, Knight-Major. That will be all. Dismissed.” MacCready, used to being on more informal terms with Preston despite their military positions, gawped for a moment before managing a ‘Yessir’ and galloping down the nearest stairs, running for cover. He knew the storm would build for hours, Preston had a slow fuse. Nevertheless, he’d make sure he was out of the way. He grabbed a sleeping bag and headed for the cold bunks in the cellar that nobody used.

****

Vincent was woken by a sharp rap on his door. “General, we need to talk.” Preston’s words were clipped, robbed of their usual warmth. Vincent stopped half way through his press-up count, stood and put his arms back into his 88 jumpsuit sleeves. “One moment.” He grabbed his armour and flung the door open. “What is it, Colonel?” Preston had his back to Vincent. “Follow me.”

They arrived at what remained of an old café beyond the castle. Vincent, Preston and a handful of Minutemen had gathered here before taking back the historic old fort. The mood was very different now. Preston hadn’t said a word outside the General’s Quarters. He stood facing away from Vin, hands behind his back. “Preston, what’s the matter?” Vincent’s voice had an edge of panic to it. He’d never seen his friend like this. Finally, through clenched teeth, Preston said in a low voice, “Did you give Mama Murphy chems?” Vincent was taken aback. He’d been expecting bad news about a settlement or that Courser, so he didn’t answer before Preston whirled around and shouted into his face, “Did you, or did you not, give her chems?” A brief stunned silence as Preston stared hard at him. Finally, he managed to say in a soft voice, “I did. She needed Buffout, I had some. She felt ill afterwards. I’ll not be giving her any more, you have my word.”

Preston sat down heavily with a sigh. “You have to cut out the chems, Vincent. For your own health. I’ve known Mama Murphy a long time now and seen her go downhill, using the Sight to excuse her addiction. I think she’s dying.” He took a deep breath and put his hand on Vin’s shoulder. “My friend, please, please think on this. You’ve done so much for us. Let us help you.” Vincent flinched but didn’t break contact. “I’m sober, Colonel. Perfectly able to do my job,” he growled. “Not from what MacCready has told me, Vincent. You can’t keep this up, getting addicted and getting clean. It takes its toll……I’ve seen it before.” A grotesque gull gave its croaking cry and the waves lapped the shore. Vincent’s breath grew heavier, anger battling with shame. “Take your time, my friend,” Preston soothed. A gulf of silence between them, bridged by Preston’s hand still on Vincent’s shoulder, was broken only by the dry sobs of the tarnished hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much for reading, I would love to read your comments. Personally, I'm really proud of this chapter. I write as a result of what I have just played, filling in the roleplaying gaps. What an excellent creative outlet gaming fanfic is! P.S. Thanks to my daughter for naming the Radio Freedom Minuteman.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, do leave feedback!  
> Find my Tumblr, with image posts to illustrate the story, at [http://www.theartofblossoming.tumblr.com]()


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